"Well ..."
"It does to me. The Adam-and-Eve business is rugged at best--and we might be in for a long stay." With that he left.
No steward's mate came to tell Max it was time for dinner; when he noticed that it was past time, he went to the lounge. Most of the passengers were already seated, although some were standing around talking. It was impossible to miss the feeling of unrest in the room. Max saw that the Captain was not at his table, nor was Mr. Walther at his. As he headed for his own table a Mr. Hornsby tried to grab his arm. Max shook him off. "Sorry, sir. I'm in a hurry."
"Wait a minute! I want to ask you ..."
"Sorry." He hurried on and sat down. Chief Engineer Compagnon was not at the table, but the usual passengers were present. Max said, "Good evening," and reached for his soup spoon, just to keep busy.
There was no soup to be toyed with, nor were there rolls and butter on the table, although it was ten minutes past the hour. Such things simply did not happen in Chief Steward Dumont's jurisdiction. Come to think about it, Dumont was not in sight.
Mrs. Daigler put a hand on his arm. "Max? Tell me, dear--what is this silly rumor going around?"
Max tried to maintain a poker face. "What rumor, ma'am?"
"You must have heard it! After all, you're in astrogation. They say that the Captain turned the wrong corner or something and that we're falling into a star."
Max tried to give a convincing chuckle. "Who told you that? Whoever it was probably couldn't tell a star from his elbow."
"You wouldn't fool your Aunt Maggie?"
"I can assure you positively that the _Asgard_ is not falling into a star. Not even a small star." He turned in his chair. "But it does look like something's fallen into the galley. Dinner is awfully late."
He remained turned, trying to avoid further questions. It did not work. Mr. Arthur called out sharply, "Mr. Jones!"
He turned back. "Yes?"
"Why stall us? I have been informed authoritatively that the ship is lost."
Max tried to look puzzled. "I don't follow you. We seem to be in it."
Mr. Arthur snorted. "You know what I mean! Something went wrong with that whatyoumucallit--transition. We're lost."
Max put on a school-teacherish manner, ticking off points on his fingers. "Mr. Arthur, I assure you that the ship is in absolutely no danger. As for being lost, I assure you just as firmly that if we are, the Captain neglected to tell me so. I was in the control room at transition and he seemed quite satisfied with it. Would you mind telling me who has been spreading this story? It's a serious thing, starting such rumors. People have been known to panic."
"Well ... it was one of the crew. I don't know his name."
Max nodded. "I thought so. Now in my experience in space ..." He went on, quoting from his uncle. "... I have learned that the only thing faster than light is the speed with which a story can spread through a ship. It doesn't have to have any foundation, it spreads just the same." He looked around again. "I wonder what has happened to dinner? I'd hate to go on watch hungry."
Mrs. Weberbauer said nervously, "Then we are all right, Maxie?"
"We're all right, ma'am."
Mrs. Daigler leaned toward him again and whispered, "Then why are you sweating, Max?"
He was saved by a steward's mate rushing up to the table and starting to deal out plates of soup. Max stopped him when he came around and said quietly, "Jim, where's Dumont?"
Out of the corner of his mouth the waiter said, "Cooking."
"Huh? Where's the chef?"
The steward's mate leaned down and whispered, "Frenchy is boiled as a judge. I guess he couldn't take it. You know."
Max let him go. Mr. Arthur said sharply, "What did he tell you?"
"I was trying to find out what went wrong in the galley," Max answered. "Seems the cook incapacitated himself." He spooned up a mouthful of the soup. "From the taste I'd say he had burned his thumb in this so-called chowder. Pretty bad, isn't it?"
Max was saved from further evasions by the arrival of the First Officer. Mr. Walther went to the Captain's table and banged on a glass with a spoon. "Your attention, please!"
He waited for quiet, then took a paper from his pocket. "I have an announcement to make on behalf of the Captain. Those of you who are familiar with the theory of astrogation are aware that space is changing constantly, due to the motions of the stars, and that consequently no two trips are exactly alike. Sometimes it is necessary, for this reason, to make certain changes in a ship's routing. Such a circumstance has arisen in this present trip and the _Asgard_ will be somewhat delayed in reaching her next destination. We regret this, but we can't change the laws of nature. We hope that you will treat it as a minor inconvenience--or even as additional vacation, in the friendly and comfortable atmosphere of our ship. Please remember, too, that the insurance policy accompanying your ticket covers you completely against loss or damage you may be cost through the ship being behind schedule."
He put away the paper; Max had the impression that he had not actually been reading from it. "That is all that the Captain had to say, but I want to add something myself. It has come to my attention that someone has been spreading silly rumors about this minor change in schedule. I am sorry if any of you have been alarmed thereby and I assure you that I will take very strict measures if the originator can be identified." He risked a dignified smile. "But you know how difficult it is to trace down a bit of gossip. In any case, I want to assure you all that the _Asgard_ is in no danger of any sort. The old girl was plying space long before any of us were born, she'll still be going strong after we all die of old age--bless her sturdy bones!" He turned and left at once.
Max had listened in open-mouthed admiration. He came from country where the "whopper" was a respected literary art and it seemed to him that he had never heard a lie told with more grace, never seen one interwoven with truth with such skill, in his life. Piece by piece, it was impossible to say that anything the First Officer had said was untrue; taken as a whole it was a flat statement that the _Asgard_ was not lost--a lie if he ever heard one. He turned back toward his table mates. "Will someone pass the butter, please?"
Mr. Arthur caught his eye. "And you told us," he said sharply, "that nothing was wrong!"
Mr. Daigler growled, "Lay off him, Arthur. Max did pretty well, under the circumstances."
Mrs. Weberbauer looked bewildered. "But Mr. Walther said that everything was all right?"
Daigler looked at her with compassion. "We're in trouble, Mama Weberbauer. That's obvious. But all we can do is keep calm and trust the ship's officers. Right, Max?"
"I guess that's right, sir."
15 "THIS ISN'T A PICNIC"
Max kept to his room that evening and the next day, wishing neither to be questioned by passengers nor to answer questions about why he had been relieved of duty. In consequence he missed the riot, having slept through it. He first heard of it when the steward's mate who tended his room showed up with a black eye. "Who gave you the shiner, Garcia?"
"I'm not sure, sir. It happened in the ruckus last night."
"Ruckus? What ruckus?"
"You mean you don't know?"
"This is the first I've heard of it. What happened?"
Garcia Lopez stared at the overhead. "Well--I wouldn't want to say too much. You know how it is-- nobody wants to testify against a mate. No?"
"Who asked you to peach on a mate? You don't have to mention names--but what happened?"
"Well, sir. Some of those chicos, they ain't got much sense." Slowly Max learned that the unrest among the crew had been greater than that among the passengers, possibly because they understand more clearly the predicament. Some of them had consulted with Giordano's poor-man's vodka, then had decided to call on the Captain in a body and demand straight talk. The violence had taken place when the master-at-arms had attempted to turn them back at the companionway to "C" deck.